


Life is Good

by Smutslug



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Collars, If you can call it that., Lots of stereotyping of Team Voltron, M/M, Mind Control, Self indulgent., This is so tame compared other things I write, Zarkon enjoys life, everything is implied, implied blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 10:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smutslug/pseuds/Smutslug
Summary: Zarkon won and he enjoys the fruit of his labours.





	Life is Good

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote as far back as season 5 but never got around to actually submit.
> 
> Hope some of you enjoys it at least.

It had taken time to train the boy, but now he came willingly.  
The lithe body slinking towards his form, thin arms clad in blues and gold gently caressing his figure.  
His fingers plays along his armor, snaking themselves in between cold metal and straps, seeking the warmth of cloth covered skin.  
He is not stupid, he knows that the only reason the lithe hands are not trying to slide a blade into his gut is due to the quintessence infused collar around the boys neck. To believe otherwise would be foolish. But the affection is a nice change and not something he plans to refuse.  
The hands travel higher, sliding over polished metal to the collar of his armor, where they end up cradling his chin.  
Unbelievably soft lips grace his cheek, spreading warmth across his face. Hazy blue eyes lock with his own, seductive and tempting. The boy is so lustful, almost borderline obnoxious. But Zarkon indulges him and grants him a small kiss back, careful not to cut him with his sharp teeth. How the boy has survived almost scarless until now is a mystery to him. Humans are so fragile, skin too soft to be practical. Even Alteans were sturdier than this.

  
The green paladin sits next to his throne typing away rapidly at her small computer. Rarely has he seen someone so obsessed with technology as her. Whatever project she is working on it would likely benefit the Empire. He had at some point asked her what she was doing, and instantly regretted it when an unending flow of information spewed from her lips. Had not Haggar disrupted them at some point to introduce the paladin to a new project he would most likely have been stuck listening to her for hours. He could have told her to stop, but for some reason it felt wrong to interrupt her eagerness and enthusiasm. She was ...fascinating, for a lack of a better word. She made him smile.  
He reaches down and brushes some of her hair away from her eyes, it is getting a tad bit long. He should get her a hairband or something similar. She doesn't seem to notice, too immersed in her work, eyes darting across the screen.  
He hums to himself as he gazes at her features. She will grow into a beautiful woman, for a human. Right now she is too young. She would not survive him.  
He lightly caresses her cheek with a claw. She is not as willing as the other, but she doesn't flinch away from his touch.  
The look on her face is one of sadness however.  
"What burdens you?" he questions and brushes her hair gently.  
She looks away from the screen for a second.  
"I miss my family," she states.  
Ah, so young. He sometimes forget she is barely a kit, even if her intellect would state otherwise.  
And on the subject of the Holts there isn't much he can do. The brother was lost to the rebels and the father while still alive is in no condition to travel. It would be better for her to go to him than the other way around. And at the moment that is out of the question, especially unsupervised.  
"You can visit your father at a later time."  
Her eyes light up, then dart back to the screen and the sound of more furious typing fills the air. He smirks.

So easy to please.

  
After a moment's thought he decides to stretch his legs. As much as he enjoys lounging on his throne all day, monitoring the paladins, _his_ paladins, is a good second.  
"Come. Let us give the Champion a visit."  
The green paladin folds down the screen and follows after him out of the room while the blue paladin hops down from the arm of the throne and joins them, both Earthlings walking briskly in his wake to keep up with him.  
The many halls of Central Command stretches out before them.  
  
It doesn't take long for a shadow to join them.

He smirks. The halfbreed practically lives in the dark. It is fascinating finding him in new impossible locations, each more incredible than the other. It is luckily more amusing than worrisome. The Blades trained him well.  
  
The Champion is sparring. Several galra soldiers standing by waiting for their turn patiently.  
He seems unphased by his attackers moves and simply sidesteps forcing them to lose balance. It's like he is not even trying, he just do.  
The soldiers snap into salute as the emperor approach, all except the Champion, who simply straightens his back to a stand a little taller.  
Unyielding.  
For someone who used to be military the Champion sure can be unruly. But it is nothing more than a plus. Besides it makes him a great sparring partner.  
He unclasps his cloak and les it fall, and before it has hit the floor the blue paladin has grasped it, cradling the heavy fabric in his arms, holding it carefully. It looks a little overwhelming for his small form, but the proud look on his face makes up for it. No greater joy than to hold his masters cape.

The Champion dodges his first blows well, but must quickly find himself blocking, pinned in place by his powerful punches and quick jabs.  
But the Champion is crafty and forever patient, enduring the onslaught until the Emperor allows the smallest gap in his defences.  
The piercing strike of his galratech arm would have been fatal, had it been followed through. But like always the Champion stops mere centimeters from the target area and stills.

Always.

He retreats his arm slowly, powering down the arm and bringing it to his chest in salute, bowing.  
The Emperor gives him a curt nod in approval.  
Everyone in the room knows the Emperor could have easily beaten the Champion into pulp, and that this was simply to hone the humans skill rather than the Emperors.  
It was still an entertaining sight for the onlookers.  
The blue paladin trots over to them, cape still in his arms, and he offers it back to the Emperor.  
Zarkon fastens it once again and motions for them to follow.

He is feeling peckish and he believes the yellow paladin might have something to sate his appetite.

 

The dining room is always a sight to behold with its large table and grand chandelier of purple many faceted balmera crystals.  
He takes his seat as usual, while the paladins take theirs. But not at the table. They do not dine with him.  
The Champion places himself by the door, arms crossed over his chest, resting. Extra defense should anyone disturb him.  
The halfbreed places himself behind his chair a bit too the side, arms folded behind his back. A second line of defense.  
The green paladin places herself on the floor next to his chair, flipping the screen of her computer back and focuses back on her project. She rarely leave his side. It benefits him well. An insurance against any close attacks, attacks that would surely hurt the girl. It is cowardly to use a child as a living shield, but considering his position he doesn’t care. He intends to live for many millennia more.  
The blue paladin seats himself on the other side, looking up at him with blue sparkling eyes before inching closer to rest his head against his thigh. Zarkon lays his hand on the boys neck, caressing the soft flesh gently with his armored claws.

 

The yellow paladin was interesting due to his skill in cookery only being rivaled by his skill in engineering. He spent equal amount of time in either the kitchens or in the workshops.  
But if someone had asked him if he would ever eat anything cooked by his mortal enemy only months in advance, he would have laughed.  
But here he sat, by a table decked in food truly worthy an emperor, made personally by said enemy. And he enjoyed it immensely.

 

He cuts a slice of juicy tender meat, spearing it on his fork and holds it up. The halfbreed steps up and takes it off the fork with a quick bite, chewing well and swallows it down.  
While he trust the yellow paladin to not poison him intentionally, the ingredients might have been tampered with. And luck would have it, the halfbreed being half galra, anything that would affect the Emperor, would affect him. He also very much doubt the paladins would poison each other, even with the collar's power over their minds.

But better safe than sorry.

He could simply consume quintessence to keep the hunger at bay, but even that has become boring as the years goes past.

 

He gives the blue paladin a nudge with his foot and he crawls between his legs.  
The boy knows what to do.  
Leaning back in his chair he lifts his goblet of wine and sighs content.

   
Life is good.


End file.
